Facing the Aftermath
by capmalreynolds
Summary: Marianna and Roger Thornton perished in a plane crash, leaving behind two daughters, Charlotte and Harper. The girls find themselves dealing with the aftermath in different ways, as Charlotte must now rise as the heir to the Thornton estate and company, but young Harper slowly slips away from reality.
1. Chapter 1

June 7th, 1984

Many people have faced loss in many different forms. The death of a loved one can be a hard thing to accept, especially at a young age. I'm only fifteen, and Harper's only twelve. Our parents perished in a plane crash only a few nights ago.

They were in New York on a business trip, and they weren't supposed to come back for another week or so. But apparently they were flying in early for Harper's birthday on the tenth. Our Aunt Virginia brought us the sad news earlier today.

I'm still stunned. It took me hours to calm down and stop crying. So much is going to change now. Aunt Virginia and Uncle Luther live in town, and Clara has lived with us for years since her mom died and she never knew who her father was. Now, I suppose, Grandaddy will have to look after Harper, Clara, and me.

And then there are thoughts of who will run the company. I've been trying to keep my mind focused on these more clinical thoughts, like what will happen to the company and to the estate. It helps to distract from thinking about them. That just hurts too much.

Harper is taking this all horribly hard. She didn't cry, though - she just kind of shut off. She sat on the sofa in the living room, just staring out the window with a blank face, while I broke down in tears. By the time I was able to pull myself together, she had run off outside.

I immediately went to go check on her. I had a strong idea of where she would be, and I was right. She had run off to the cemetery we have. The cemetery contains centuries of Thorntons, buried in graves with sentimental headstones or locked up in the crypt. There's also a statue next to a grave we don't usually talk about.

The cemetery is peaceful and quiet, but also irksome. Most times a thin layer of fog surrounds the graves and the Spanish moss trees cast eerie shadows. There aren't many places to be alone in Thornton Hall, as there are usually maids everywhere and family members lurking around. But the cemetery is a place where Harper and I have found is nice to go to to be alone.

So I found her there, crouched under a tree that had a particularly thick trunk. She was by Rosalie Thornton's gravestone - that's Clara's mother. She passed away when Clara was only five years old, never telling a soul who Clara's daddy was.

Harper was tracing her finger lightly along the engravings on the gravestone. Without looking up at me, she said, "We're just like Clara now. Alone...orphans…" A single tear slipped down her cheek.

I rushed over to her and crouched down next to her. Fog was rolling in, and night was beginning to set, making the cemetery not the most comfortable place to be.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "We're not alone, Harper. We have each other, and Clara. And cousin Wade, and Grandpa Jackson, and so many more people. We Thorntons have an abundance of family, doll."

She just ignored me and continued tracing. "Where will we put them?"

At first I was a little confused as to what she meant, but then it hit me: she was wondering where our parents - Roger and Marianna Thornton - would be placed in the cemetery. Then, just like that, she got up and ran back into the house. I got up and followed her back.

Now I'm up in my bedroom. I feel too close to mother and father's room, knowing it's empty now and forever will be. I do find I will miss them terribly, but I fear for poor fragile Harper, as this event is already appearing to hit her hardest.


	2. Chapter 2

June 9th, 1984

Harper's birthday is tomorrow. Grandaddy's had a ton of different people over to deal with the ownership of the estate and such. He's been trying to keep all this from Harper, as she doesn't handle it well. Other people being in Thornton Hall, I mean - to her this place is a sacred, Thornton-only sanctuary.

Grandaddy wants to have a celebration for Harper's thirteenth birthday, despite the circumstances. But because he's been so busy lately, he's asked me to plan it. I agreed, of course, but I don't think she would want to have a birthday party. Even if Mother and Father were still around. Harper's not typically a social girl.

With her birthday being so soon, I knew there wasn't any real big thing I could throw, like the usual celebrational balls that we Thorntons have due to special occasions. I arranged to get a cake, and our close family members will be around per usual, and there will be gifts, but nothing more.

I'm sitting at my desk up in my bedroom. I have a framed photo of Mother and Father that is supposed to be in the living room. I brought it up here to be with me, so they could be with me. In the photograph, Mother and Father just got married. That was years ago...and they both look so young and in love. So happy. So alive.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to find Harper and tell her there will be a small birthday celebration for her tomorrow. I get up from my desk and leave my room, going to the room next door which is hers. I knock lightly.

"Harper?" I ask.

No reply. I push open the door; it's unlocked. She's not inside. Maybe she's at the cemetery again. She's always spent a lot of time there, but recently she's spent more time with the deceased Thorntons than with the living.

This time she's sitting on the ground by a statue. It's currently the afternoon, so the fog hasn't quite settled in yet. Harper's toying with her hair, twisting her black locks into braids.

She looks up at me, noticing my presence. "Dear sweet Charlotte - to what do I owe the pleasure?" Sarcasm weighs down her words.

I crouch down next to her and start helping her braid. "I wanted to talk to you about your birthday tomorrow."

Before I can continue, Harper interrupts. "I don't want anything. I want to sleep all morning then I'd like to spend some time alone, preferably out here. I'm only turning thirteen so you don't have to make a big deal about it."

I sigh. I thought she might react this way. "Harper, Grandaddy thought it might be good for you to have a tiny party. Just with people like Aunt Virginia, and Wade, and nothing too _much_ , okay?"

"Grandaddy doesn't know what's good for me, alright?! I. Don't. Want. A party." She smacks my hand away from her hair, and she gets up, casting a shadow over me.

I stand up next to her. I only have a good inch or two on her, and with her dark eyes staring coldly into mine, I feel very out of control in this moment. "Harper, doll, it'll be alright. It won't last very long, anyway, and -"

"No, Charlotte! Leave me alone."

Before I can say anything, she turns and runs from the cemetery.


	3. Chapter 3

June 10th, 1984

The dead silence weighs heavily on the room. We've all gathered in the front parlor - Grandaddy, Aunt Virginia, Uncle Luther, Wade, Clara, and I - for the party. The presents have been neatly stacked on the coffee table, and there's cake in the dining room. We're all waiting for Harper.

I told her everyone was here. She said she was getting ready. Despite yesterday's episode, Harper has seemed to come around to the idea of her birthday celebration. Not that she's completely excited for it or anything, but she stopped complaining.

The grandfather clock chimes; the sound echoes through the room. No one stirs.

"I'll go check on Harper," I offer. "She must be done getting ready by now."

Grandaddy nods at me, and everyone seems more relaxed at the notion. I get up from the sofa and go upstairs, rapping lightly at her bedroom door.

"Harper? Harper everyone's -" I stop myself short. A sharp noise sounds from behind me. I whirl around as I realize what room it came from. Mother and Father's.

The noise repeats, and I carefully push open the door. I haven't been in this room since…

"Harper?"

Harper stands anxiously at the opposite wall, her hair a mess and a crazes look in her eyes. She's tearing at the room, smashing the framed photos of our parents, ripping at the wallpaper, and knocking over furniture. She doesn't even acknowledge my presence.

Immediately I go to stop her; I can't believe she'd destroy their room! All of the memories it contains, all of the parts of them reside in here. I catch her arm as she goes to punch the wall. She's crying, I see.

"Harper this is insanity! You must stop!" I try to hold her back, but she fights against me. For being so thin and wiry, she's got some strength to her.

"I don't want a party, I don't want this...I can't do it, Charlotte! I can't do it!" she shouts at me.

I restrain her the best I can. "Okay, okay - you don't have to go downstairs, but you can't destroy their room like this! This is _not_ the way to go about things, doll." I try to calm her down.

Her dark eyes stare into mine, and all color seems void from her face. "It doesn't matter anymore, Charlotte. They're gone. They're _dead_."

Now I'm crying too, and she slips away from me, running out of the room and through the house, down the stairs. I hear another sharp noise from below, and then the course reprimand from Grandaddy. His loud voice carries through the Hall, bouncing off the walls.

"HARPER, STOP! THIS IS SHAMEFUL. YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE THORNTON NAME. HOW COULD YOU?"

I gather all the courage inside of me and force myself to go downstairs. Harper is going through hell right now and she needs someone to stand up for her. When I reach the parlor, the sight surprises and frightens me.

Harper doesn't look like the younger sister I've always known, instead she looks crazed. Her fingers are bleeding from tearing at our parents' bedroom, her clothes are in a disarray, her black hair is ruffled and wild, and her eyes seem soulless and determined. It sends a shiver down my spine.

Then I notice that Clara has been knocked down on the floor, and she's clutching her face as if she were struck there. Grandaddy stands in front of her, guarding her. Protecting her. From Harper.

My eyes flicker from Clara back to Harper. I can't believe what's happened. Surely this has little to do with her birthday, and most to do with our parents.

"Harper, what have you done?" I gasp.

She just looks at me coldly. I see no remorse or guilt in her expression, just...emptiness.


	4. Chapter 4

June 15th, 1984

"Charlotte, listen - this is very important," Grandaddy says to me. He's seated on the end of my bed, and he's closed the door. His voice is serious and stoney.

"I'm listening," I reply.

Days ago, after Harper's episode, things have been awkward and heavy around the Thornton Hall. Grandpa Jackson has had several people over, as well as making hushed phone calls when he thinks no one is around. I can't tell what he's been doing, but I've had the sneaking suspicion that it has to do with Harper's outbursts.

He tried to get her to see a therapist, for a way to express and channel her negative emotions, but she hasn't agreed to it. She justs yells and runs off. I've been on the lookout for her, but she hasn't been in her room or in the cemetery. She must've found a new place to hide. I'm not surprised; there are so many hidden rooms and passageways in this old building.

Harper has been very on edge lately. After she struck Clara, Wade and I have really been the only people on her side. Everyone's been so cold to her; why can't they see she's in awful pain?

The funeral is tomorrow. They're going to be buried in the cemetery next to each other, of course. Many of the Thornton relatives are coming in from the mainland and from as far as Atlanta for it. I'm sure most of them only want to question Granddaddy about who the new head of the family business will be.

I've been trying to keep it all together, mostly for Harper, but just thinking about it...just thinking about how the majority of the family doesn't really care...it's too much to bear, honestly. A tear slips silently down my cheek.

"Sweet Charlotte, you know bad things are going down with Harper…" Grandpa Jackson trails on. I nod. "I've tried to get her to see someone, or to even talk to you about it, but she's so resistant...I'm not sure what else can be done. I've made some phone calls to some people, getting the best advice I can on what to do, and, I think I've found a solution…

"There's a school up in North Carolina that would be perfect for her. It's to help rehabilitate young girls like her who have faced something tragic to trigger episodes like hers...I'm not saying we're going to send her there, but if she does something dangerous, we may have no other choice."

He leans back, finished with his explanation. My jaw drops and my throat feels dry, suddenly it's like I can't breathe. I've just lost Mother and Father, and now I'm going to lose Harper, too?

"No!" I say when I find my voice. I stand up harshly, almost knocking my lamp off my nightstand. "You can't take her away!"

Grandaddy stands up next to me and puts a calming hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to, Charlotte. But if worse comes to worse, I'm going to do what's safest for you and for the rest of my family."

I'm crying, harder than I have since I first heard the news about Mother and Father. I love Harper to pieces; she's my little sister, I remember playing dolls with her and dancing with her. I can see her picking flowers in the garden; I can see her spinning around in the guest house. She's laughing and smiling, so innocent and pure. She's Harper.

"Charlotte, you know I love you and your sister, but I must think about what is best for everyone," Grandpa Jackson says, his voice cold and unwelcoming. He turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Suddenly I hate him, and I hate this house, and I hate that Mother and Father had to die. I hate it all.

When I've calmed down, I hear a slow knock at the door. I look up, hoping it's Harper. But Clara's meek voice sounds as she asks for permission to enter.

"Come in," I struggle to say. I can't talk to her now; I can't talk to anyone.

She comes and sits right next to me on my bed, wrapping her arms around me. Ever since she came to live with us years ago, she's been like a sister to me. She's been my best friend. Harper's always been more indifferent towards her, but after striking her, Clara's distaste for my baby sister has grown.

"It'll be okay, Char. I'm sure Harper will be just fine. She won't have to go away," Clara coos as she strokes my hair.

I look up at her, my cheeks stained with mascara from my tears, my lungs course and empty. "What do you care? You _hate_ her," I sneer.

"I most certainly do not hate her! I love her...we've had our differences, sure, and the other day wasn't particularly lovely, but…" She sighs. "I love all of you. You're my family."

Though her words are sweet, I can tell she doesn't mean them. Not really, not all the way. She might care for her because we're family, but she'd care not if Harper were to be shipped off to that school tomorrow.

I smiley weakly. "Thanks, Clara. Really."

She smiles back, her thin lips curling.

Clara came to the Hall about ten years ago. She was young, small, and utterly alone. Never knowing who her father was, and having just lost her mother, we were the only family she really knew. Mother, Father, Grandaddy, Harper, and I took her right in.

Being the same age as me, Clara and I took a liking to each other immediately. Harper was a little standoffish and shy, never making too much of a bond with our new "sister". Harper always seemed painfully aware that Clara wasn't _really_ our sister, and was actually our cousin. But that's never bothered me.

Growing up the more extroverted and bold of us two, I've always found it my business to protect Harper. She grew up a little more needy than most, until she was about nine when she found out nobody wanted her to be needy, so she stopped asking for things. For things like hugs, and someone to tuck her in bed at night. No one noticed, what with being so busy running the company. But I noticed.

I cared for her and loved her more than I believe anyone has for their sibling in this cold, uncaring Thornton family lineage. Throughout the years, I think Clara has felt left out, and of course she's felt a heavy sadness from her own losses.

That's why Clara and Harper have always been a little bitter towards each other. Despite her quiet nature, Harper can be quite the fireball, and snapping at Clara has never been something she's afraid to do. I feel as though I'm the only one holding them together.

All her life, Clara has been cut short, with losing her parents so young, and of course being from the side of the family tree she's from. Ever since a tragic incident years ago, the family tree of the Thorntons has been split. There are those of us who believe the tragedy that took place should never take place again, and there are those that would do anything to continue the success and power of the Thornton business. Clara's mother, though born to Grandpa Jackson and Grandma Whitney - may God bless her soul - found herself on the selfish, power-hungry side of the split.

Of course Mother and Father haven't blamed poor Clara for being born to that side of the family, but there have been arguments breaking out about it every now and then. My parents tried to hide it from Clara, but she always knew. She always knows. Some Thorntons thinks we shouldn't have taken her in. Some think we should have let "her side" take her in. It's all nonsense, really, but it can get to you.

Harper and I have always had our place here at the Hall, children to the heads of the Thornton company. We've always been loved and wanted, but Clara has never felt like she belongs; she's always had it hard.

As I wasn't present at the time, I'm not sure what was said or done to trigger Harper to hit Clara, and I'm worried something will happen and Harper will feel the need to do something else harmful. Something worse.

Maybe not to Clara, even. Maybe to Grandaddy or to Wade; maybe even to me. Maybe even to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

June 16th, 1984

Aunt Virginia and Mother were very close as small children. Much like Harper and I were. They'd run and play together, laughing and enjoying life. Simply being children. Simply being alive. Mother used to tell me stories about the adventures she had growing up; it seemed like she'd never run out of stories. Every time she'd sit me down and tell me about some reckless thing she took part in on the mainland or some whirlwind romance of hers before Father, she'd never repeat the same story. Except for one.

She always seemed to go back to this one story of hers, from when she was quite young, and would tell it to me over and over. Even Harper who can barely sit still for anything stopped to listen to it. It was from when Mother, Aunt Virginia, and Aunt Rosalie - Clara's mother - were young girls. It was the summer before Mother's first day of school on the mainland - second grade. She had been taught the previous years from inside the Hall.

I remember this story clear as day: I can picture it all in my mind so clearly from the details Mother would spin; it's like I was really there. Mother was horribly bored one morning and went to take a walk along the edge of the thick forest near the Hall. Of course Aunt Virginia and Aunt Rosalie tagged along, on the hunt for adventure.

They didn't go out too far, for fear of being lost, and hardly entered past the treeline. At first. Then Aunt Virginia, the youngest of the three, spotted a rabbit just beyond the brush. She raced after it, Mother hot on her trail. The hot summer wind ripped through them, stinging them, and they could taste it. Aunt Rosalie trailed behind, more fearful to be caught. Soon the three found themselves in the middle of the forest, seemingly and utterly lost.

Mother took charge and decided to lead herself and her sisters out. Of course she was far too young and clueless to know where she was headed. They ended up far deeper into the wood than they had ever intended to be. Eventually they found themselves standing in a large shadow of a tree so large it towered over all the others. It's branches were thick and strong, reaching out for miles. The leaves were so cluttered Mother couldn't even see the sky, just a glimpse of a cloud here and there.

At the base of this tree was a large, hollow opening. Like a make-shift door had been ripped into place. Mother was hesitant at first, but ultimately she wanted to explore it. She wanted an adventure as wild as the summer promised. Aunt Rosalie begged her not to go through, that they'd all end up caught in some horrific death, but Aunt Virginia just followed, sticking close to Mother at every turn. Of course Aunt Rosalie followed, too, just with more bitter sarcasm than any five year old could summon.

The hollow opening was vast and dank. Despite the Southern heat, Mother swore she got chills. But after pushing her way through the opening, Mother found the other end, another opening. It lead to a small field where the treetops made room for the sun to shine down, making the small creek sparkle. Mother's mouth gaped because, as she put it, there were thousands of tiny ghosts dancing in the field.

Upon her later discovery, they were in fact daisies getting blown around by the wind, only appearing as if they were magical. But Mother said that ghosts or flowers nonetheless, they _were_ magical. That so was that whole day.

Ever since then, Mother's favorite flowers have always been daisies. I hold a soft bouquet of them now, cradling them until I'm brave enough to lay them on her coffin.

I'm crying silent tears - on the inside, of course. To my family I must appear strong and steady, prepared for anything. I can't let them see me cry again. I can't let them worry for me when Harper needs them all so much more.

I don't think I'll ever be brave again. A part of me died with my parents in that plane crash, and I don't think I'll ever be able to recover it. I can't be brave. I never would've been the one to race through the opening at the tree's base, or to dance with the ghosts in the field. I would be the one here, back at the familiar, crying.

Despite the pain I feel in every step I take, I walk to Mother's and Father's coffins. They're placed next to each other. I lay down the bouquet, saving one flower for Harper. I linger a moment, letting my fingers rest against the hard wooden caskets. I miss them both more than I can bear.

Harper hasn't moved since the funeral started. Hasn't spoken a word, hasn't shifted in her seat. She's just sat still and let her tears roll down her cheeks and fall onto her black skirt. I go and sit next to her, handing her the last daisy.

"You know how Mother loved daisies, yeah, doll?" I remind her.

Her gaze doesn't switch, but she nods shortly. She tilts her head to rest on my shoulder; she brings up the flower to breathe it in.

"Mother smelled like daisies. Now she smells like death," Harper murmurs to herself, just audible enough so I can hear it. That statement makes me uneasy.

One by one, our family members leave some sort of flower or other sign of last goodbyes on the coffins. Then they all retreat back to where they were sitting. To so many of them, the more distant ones especially, this is just another day. Another part of their life. Oh, Marianna and Roger's funeral is today. Right.

My stomach tightens. I'm not brave anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

June 21st, 1984

Their presence is now officially gone. Their bodies are feet below the earth's surface, their room is in a disarray - no thanks to Harper, and their names have been stripped from the Thornton family business. Mother was the head of the company. Not anymore. Grandaddy has taken over, as he's the closest in kin and has already had experience in running the company. Soon the true heir will be named; Grandaddy has men in fancy suits looking into it.

Harper's devastation has only worsened, I'm afraid. Whatever new hiding place she's discovered is her home now...I haven't seen or heard from her in days. I wonder where she is - it's possible she's not even in the Hall right now. She could have run often into the forest or hopped a ferry to the mainland. She could be as far as Savannah or even Atlanta. Harper could truly be long gone.

Mother's and Father's gravestones got engraved and placed this morning. It's all so depressing. I'm trying to be strong, to recover that confidence and bravery that I once controlled, but everything makes me sad these days. I thought getting out of Thornton Hall would help, so I took a walk.

Now I'm not sure where I am. I fear I will never find my way back home. My home is in the ground now, buried within the world. Harper has lost it; Grandaddy's obsessed with the company's well being. I'm more alone now than I've ever been.

Though it's mid-summer, the wind sends a chill through me. I can feel the ghosts of the forest dance in the wind, feeding off the cold energy. I wrap my arms around myself and sigh. Were these the ghosts that Mother always spoke of in such high regard? Is this magic?

The sun begins to go down, changing the sky into an orangey purple. I turn around and head back towards the Hall. I find Grandaddy in the doorway on the front porch, arms crossed and face twisted in a wicked way.

"You've been out all night, Charlotte," he says. I can tell he's upset.

"I just went for a walk, is all," I reply, uneasy.

"You can't just leave whenever you want. You're supposed to be forming into a lovely young woman, not prancing away from the Hall." His voice is tense yet sad; he's never been this way with me before.

"Oh, and Harper's absences are perfectly excusable, I assume?" I hate to use Harper this way, to get out of trouble, yet I find the words falling from my tongue nonetheless.

"This isn't about Harper, Charlotte! You need to start shaping up. You're almost sixteen!" Grandaddy snaps.

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, but I ignore them until they shrivel away. Haven't I been good already? What shaping up must I do? I'm trying my best…

"I don't understand, Grandaddy. I'm only fifteen? What must I do?" I ask, practically a beg. I feel so utterly weak and pathetic.

"Charlotte…" His voice calms a little, but there's still anger in his eyes. "I didn't want to tell you this way. Not yet. Not so soon…"

"What?" I demand. "What - tell me _what_?!" Fear surges through me as I can only assume he's speaking of sending Harper to that school in North Carolina.

"Charlotte." Grandpa Jackson looks me dead in the eyes. "You're the heir to the Thornton family company. You will inherit it once you turn twenty-one. I've looked into everything...there's no way around it. Until then, I will remain in charge. But when the day comes, there's no choice for you."

The youngest anyone's taken control of the Thornton family company was Sandra Thornton back in the early 1800s, at the age of thirty-three. Most usually the leadership privilege gets passed down once the current head becomes too old. Early death never occurred when the children of the leader were this...young.

My jaw drops and my eyes bulge. Tears escape and slide down my skin. There won't be a way around it. I'm the heir to the business, and I only have five years to prepare.


	7. Chapter 7

June 28th, 1984

It's been exactly a week since I found out about my inheritance. I know it's not for a few years, but with such an important position in such an important business, I better learn everything I can to be a good leader. Grandpa Jackson takes four painstakingly long hours a day to tell me all the tedious information he can about running the Thornton family company.

During the school year, I'm going to be taking some weekend classes with some people Grandpa Jackson knows about business. I'm ready to take control of my responsibilities to my Thornton name. I understand that I need to do this.

When I was really little, when I didn't understand about the company or the family problems or any of it, I was such a dreamer. I read fairy tales and would stare out my window at the sky, at night when the stars shone so pretty. I would imagine a prince to come save me, but from what I didn't know. I wanted a crown and a fairy Godmother and the whole thing.

But now, my future is completely decided for me. I can't be a teacher, an artist, a doctor - let alone a princess in a story. I don't have much up to my own decisions anymore. My life has been officially set in stone.

This horrid month has been a rollercoaster of pain and loss. Speaking of which, Harper is really losing it. The few times I do see her, she's sitting alone talking to herself. In hushed, quick voices, none matching her own, and when I listen, the things she says don't make much sense.

She's scared, I can tell.

Grandaddy told everyone the news. Now there are no more distant Thorntons calling us up with their delusions that they could inherit the company. Those who came to Mother and Father's funeral just to ask about the business are satisfied. Of course they're upset that me, of all people, a little fifteen year old girl, will rise to power very shortly. Despite which side of the family they're from, all Thorntons are greed stricken.

Which has gotten me thinking about the whole double face to the Thornton family tree. That split...can it be mended? Can I help with that? When I am in charge, I'm not going to favor either side. I love all of my family, no matter what our disastrous past has labeled us as, and I'm going to be a fair and just leader.

I do so hope all this angst between our sides will begin to minimize until it no longer exists.

Harper feels neglected by me, I can tell. She rarely talks to me anymore. I feel so bad, I know I should take more time for her, but I've been so stressed lately. I know she's young and going through a lot, but I feel like I shouldn't always be the one to take care of her. She needs to grow up soon.

God, I hate myself for thinking that.

Next week is Independence Day, which, for us Thorntons, is a grand time to gather here at the Hall and celebrate with each other. People will begin arriving soon, as the ones from farther away tend to stay for a few days. I know Harper won't like this. Especially as of late, with her behavior changing so much.

I decide to spend some time with her today, and take a little break from my studies. Harper isn't in her bedroom, which has been expected, and she isn't in the cemetery, which is unexpected. I sigh; where could she be? I let my mind wander to all the places she could have run off to as I walk around the grounds.

I wish Mother was still here. She'd know how to help Harper; though if she was here, Harper wouldn't be having these problems in the first place. There's not much else I can think of doing, and if Harper wants to hide, then let her hide. I march back to the Hall to return to my books.


	8. Chapter 8

July 12th, 1984

It's officially been two full weeks since I've last seen Harper. Grandaddy sent a call into the mainland's police to keep an eye out for her. They were also informed of Harper's behavior as of late, so nobody thinks foul play has anything to do with her disappearance. I don't think so, either. I think she's finally run away from our little island. She's run off to avoid her family and her ever growing issues. I honestly can't blame her. But that doesn't mean I'm not terrified for her.

At the Independence Day celebration last week, I was caught in many conversations about the future of the company. Everyone - even the few Thorntons who live all the way in South Carolina - was overly curious about my plans. Which, of course, I have none of. I've only begun my business studies and it's not like I'm fully in charge yet, anyway. But that hasn't stopped them. Both sides of the family have tried to coerce me into okaying little things here and there that the other side has wishes specifically against.

Everything has been too much these past few weeks, especially with Harper being gone. If she doesn't return soon, I fear strongly about Grandpa Jackson's reaction. I know he'll want to send her away to that school in North Carolina; he's so earnest to be done with her. To rid the "problem girl" from his perfect family. It makes me sick. I've always loved him, and I know he loves us, but just as all Thorntons have eventually become, he's a greed-stricken man.

There's nothing I want more than Harper's return. Our cousin Wade is perhaps the only other Thornton who is primarily worried for her safety. Honestly, she's a thirteen year old girl! No matter where she is or how, she's in danger.

I've spent most of my days with Grandaddy's business teachers in the study. The little time off I do have I use to wander the grounds, practically begging for any sign of my little sister. I've been sleeping in her bedroom now, probably because I just miss her too much. Her room is so reflective of her personality - it has books everywhere, piles and piles because her four bookcases have already overflowed; clothes strown about because she doesn't care to put them away and the maids have been "banished" - by Harper - from her room; there's a broken mirror hanging on the wall with photographs of our parents taped to the glass. Like her mind, her room is utterly a mess.

My baby sister's pillow is now covered in my tears. I don't know what to do without her.


	9. Chapter 9

August 20th, 1984

Today is a Monday. It's also our first day back to school. The boat ride to the mainland is only about half an hour and then only a few minutes to drive to St Jude's Academy. That's where I go to high school; I'm now in my sophomore year. Harper should be attending St Jude's Middle and Elementary School across the street, in eighth grade, but she's still missing.

The police have said they won't stop keeping an eye out for her, but they can't keep up their search party. Grandaddy agreed; he says if Harper doesn't return before my birthday, then he's going to announce her dead and have her name wiped from the Thornton will. This harsh response struck me and I tried for days to argue a better solution, but he's set. I am disgusted with him.

My sixteenth birthday is the day before Hallow's Eve, which gives Harper about two months to show up or be found.

The end of this past summer went by in a hazy blur of studying and preparations. I will now only see Grandaddy's businessmen on Saturday's, but they'll still be meeting with me at the Hall. My friends haven't seen much of me lately, and I'm nervous they'll forget about me entirely. But I suppose I'll always have Clara.

October 18th, 1984

My birthday is in only a few weeks now, and still no sign of Harper. Even Wade has given up hope. Aunt Virginia has been working on the party planning for my birthday, although I've said I don't want one. All I want to do is weep over my sister. This must have been how Harper had felt in the summer.

In these past two months, I've been extremely busy. Grandaddy and his businessmen have been working me harder than ever, and I've also had to continue with my homework. I've had absolutely no free time; I have lost all my friends. They'd tried to spend time with me, but I'd always blow them off because I had to study for this or that. Now all I have are Clara and Wade.

Wade has been distant lately, always off brooding in the graveyard when he visits. He can't stand to talk to Grandaddy, not after what he's said about Harper these past few months. I don't blame him; I wish I could do the same, but my preparations require full time contact with him and his businessmen. Wade tells me of his hatred of our family as a whole, and how he wants to escape it. "The day I get out of this place, Char, is the day I truly live," he told me. I'll never get to leave; I'll never get to live.

October 30th, 1984

I'm wearing a dreamy pink gown with white lace and white shoes to match. I found it in Mother's closet, and I remember her wearing it in photographs I've seen of her from her young ages. Today is my birthday, which just means another familiar gathering of the Thornton clan. Everyone except for Harper. There's now a gray headstone in the graveyard that says "Lost and Dearly Missed". I've read it a hundred times now, but I still don't believe that Grandaddy means it. He doesn't miss her at all.

I'm not going inside the Hall to join the party, I'm going to stay here with all I have left of Harper. A stone with her name on it. I can see the lights and hear the bustling from within the Hall where my family is drinking and dancing and enjoying themselves. Do they know about Harper? How could they dance and sing and laugh if they did? I bite back tears - I wouldn't want to melt my mascara down my pink-painted cheeks. God, how materialistic of me. I hope Harper can forgive me for allowing Granddaddy to do this, to forget about her like she never existed.

Careful not to crinkle my dress, I sit cross legged in front of her headstone, close enough to trace the letter carvings with my fingers. Let everyone else celebrate my birthday but I don't want to. Not without Harper. She never liked these parties anyway - we'd always find an excuse to run off upstairs and play cards or read together. When we couldn't come up with a plausible lie, we'd sneak off through the secret passage in the kitchen. It was originally the servants' staircase in the 1800s, but had since then been boarded up. Harper found a way in, though - she'd always find a way into the old passages - and she shared it with me. Most of the passages she'd keep to herself.

"Thought I'd find you out here." Wade comes into the cemetery and stands next to me. "I come out here a lot, too. To talk to her like...like she's still here."

I chew on my bottom lip, struggling to hold in the tears. "I miss her so much, Wade. Where could she be?"

"I don't know, Char," he admits. "I wish I did. I wish Grandpa Jackson didn't put this goddamn headstone here. I wish our relatives weren't partying like nothing's happened." He makes a move to punch a nearby tree but stops himself, controlling the bursting rage within him. "I wish she'd never made the stupid decision to run of fin the first place."

This all feels too overwhelming. How am I supposed to handle this? My parents death, the business pressure, Harper's disappearance, losing my friends, Grandaddy's behavior...I'm only sixteen. I'm only a child. Sometimes I hate this place and these people. Sometimes I wish I could just run away like Harper did, and leave this all behind.

I pull myself together and stand up. "It's almost time for cake...we should head inside."

Wade just stares at me, shakes his head, then walks further into the cemetery. I trudge up to the Hall; I can hear the music and the chatter so clearly. This is my life now, isn't it? Burying the pain so far down that only I know it's there, so I can show up at parties with plastered on smiles and happy eyes?

November 1st, 1984

All Hallow's day. The day when ghosts supposedly return from their eternal resting places for a few hours of human communication. It's a Thursday, and I'm wandering in the cemetery per usual. The cool, autumn air bites at my bare skin - winter is on its way. It never really snows here, maybe some flakes in early January, and the temperature never drops below the twenties. And that's on a bad day.

It's dead silent; no ghosts are making any visits to me today. I let my arms hang by my sides, my fingertips grazing each headstone I pass. My great grandparents, my grandparents, my parents...relatives I've only heard of and ones I've never heard of. Generations of dead people sleep here tonight. I pause at the only rock belonging to a living girl. A crunch of leaves sounds behind me and I snap my head around to see who's there. I assume to find Wade or maybe a maid, but I only catch a small glimpse of whomever it is before they slip away.

Dark, frizzy hair. Skinny and sad. For a split second I see the ghost of my little sister, my little sister who isn't dead.


	10. Chapter 10

November 8th, 1984

It's been a week since I thought I'd seen Harper's ghost lurking in the cemetery, and now I see her everywhere. I pass the paintings of Thorntons that line the hallways, but all I see is her face. I can swear I catch a figure that looks suspiciously like her going into her room from time to time, but when I race in after it, no one is there. I might be going crazy, following ghosts around the Hall, stumbling upon passages I know only Harper knew about. She can't be dead, can she?

I haven't told anyone that I've been seeing her. I mentioned to Wade what happened on All Hallow's day, but he told me to keep it to myself. Said he sees her sometimes too, but it does nobody any good to share that. I nodded and kept my mouth shut.

Harper has been missing for long enough to make me question whether she ran away or was...taken by someone. If she had run, where did she go? If she hadn't been kidnapped, why hasn't she come back yet? It baffles me that Harper would do this to me, to leave me here to face the aftermath alone, but I'd rather believe she doesn't care about that than believe she was taken.

I'm in the study at a desk, studying for an upcoming chemistry test. But I'm not really paying attention to my textbook; my thoughts are drawn to Harper. I look up from the text and scan the walls, eyeing the portraits that hang. I see Harper at first and I blink to chase away her image, and my mother's replaces it. The picture was painted the day before her wedding. She and Father were married in a small church in the mainland. I smile at the thought. I hope one day I can find someone to love as much as my parents love each other.

The study door slamming open startles me from my thoughts. I look up to see Grandpa Jackson stalk angrily in and head straight to the landline. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

He ignores me as he dials the phone. I get up from the desk chair, debating whether or not I should get any closer to him. His rage isn't something I generally want to be close to.

"Yes, I need to speak to the headmistress immediately. Jackson Thornton. Yes, I will hold." He paces while he's speaking, obviously nervous, but why? And who is he on the phone with?

"Thank you, Ma'am. My name is Jackson Thornton, I believe we spoke a few months ago about my granddaughter?"

Oh no. Oh, God, no. This can't be true - he's on the phone with Saint Dymphna's Hospital. About Harper. But, that must mean she's here? That she's come home?

"Perfect. Yes, just let me grab a pen…" Grandaddy continues to whom I assume is the headmistress of the "school" he plans to send Harper to.

"No!" I shout as I run from the study, out the open door, and race into the front parlor. Harper is sitting on the couch, her legs crossed and her hands folded neatly on them. She holds her head high and looks unbothered despite being gone for months. Aunt Virginia is wiping dirt off of her face while silently weeping. Wade is next to her, saying something to her I can't quite make out.

I rush to her and slam passed Aunt Virginia into her, embracing her in a hug. "Harper, dollbaby! Are you okay?!" I scan over her visible skin so I can search for cuts or bruises, but there's nothing I can see.

She just tilts her head up at me, her face blank. She gently pushes me back and I end up sitting on the edge of the coffee table. There's dirt and blood under her nails. God, where has she been?

"He's going to send me away, isn't he?" she says straight and simple.

I burst into tears and cover my mouth with my hands to keep from quivering. "Oh my God, Harper…where've you been?" I try to change the subject; there's nothing I can do about Grandpa Jackson's decisions regarding the hospital and I can't bear to tell her that. I can't tell her she's finally come home just to be forced away.

"Why is there a headstone with my name on it in the cemetery?" she asks, avoiding my question just like I avoided hers. So she's already been to the cemetery? How long has she been back?

I squint my eyes quizzically. "When did you get back, exactly?"

Harper shrugs. I don't think she'll answer anything I ask. Aunt Virginia lets out an audible sob then immediately gets up and leaves the room. Wade just sits silently and slack-jawed, like he can't believe she's real. Like if he reached out to touch her, his hand will go straight through her and she'll disappear. So instead he'll sit still forever rather than to risk her fading away right in front of him. We've all lost her once already, and once is enough.

Grandpa Jackson comes into the parlor with the same bright red anger flashing in his brown eyes. "I've just gotten off the phone with the staff at Saint Dymphna's in North Carolina." He faces me while he says this, refusing to meet Harper in the eye, though she stares right at him. "Charlotte, go upstairs with your sister and pack up some clothes for her. She's leaving this weekend."

He can't even say her goddamn name, can he? He's that disgusted with her? I tighten my jaw and grab Harper's hand. "Come on, dollbaby. Let's talk upstairs, okay?"

She absentmindedly nods her head and gets up from the couch. She squeezes my hand which is the only sign she's even mentally here right now; her face is empty and she walks like she's floating, barely moving her legs and not making a single sound. I follow behind her as she leads me up the stairs, still holding strongly to my hand.

Her room is still torn apart and messy, there are still my tears stained on her pillowcase. But she floats on through like nothing's happened. That's how all of us Thorntons are supposed to deal with things, right? Pretend they didn't happen?

Harper pulls clothes from her dresser drawers and from her closet, just tossing them aside onto her unmade bed. She tosses a bathing suit from last summer onto the pile, she adds a gown she wore to the Christmas Ball last December. She's not looking or caring about which clothes she chooses. The pile is getting higher and higher, full of clothes she'll never wear again let alone wear at a hospital.

"Is he really going to send me away to that school, Charlotte?" She turns to face me. There are deep, dark circles under her brown eyes. She looks so desperate for me to say "no", to tell her the lies she wants to believe. But I can't say anything; I can't believe Grandpa Jackson told her it was a school.

All I do is cry. She's getting taken away from me all over again.

November 11th, 1984

Grandpa Jackson wouldn't let me go with when he escorted her up to that dreadful place in North Carolina. He said I'd be too emotional and it would cause Harper to act out. I said goodbye to her and she was dragged into his car, fighting back and screaming. I wanted to run to her and save and be the big sister she needs. But I stood there on the front steps of the Hall and watched him take her away.

She wouldn't tell me where she'd been. After she dumped her life's entire wardrobe onto her bed, she started running around the house and turning things around. She flipped paintings upside down, switched books on the bookcases with dishes from the kitchen, and turned on all the faucets in every bathroom. I ran around after her, fixing everything she moved. There was something in her that had snapped, and that's when I thought something horrible: that maybe she _should_ be going to St Dymphna's. St Dymphna, the Catholic patron saint of mental illnesses. My baby sister, my dollbaby, is mentally ill.

Clara tried to talk to her while she was screwing up the house. Tried to calm her down is all, and she ended up helping me put the dishes back and reorganizing the books. After Harper had switched on the last of the faucets, she announced she needed some time alone, and headed up the the widow's walk. I didn't notice that was where she was going, because I was still alphabetizing the bookcases in the study, but Clara saw so she ran up after her.

When I got up there, it had been too late. I don't know why Harper had gone up there; maybe she was planning to jump off in order to avoid being sent away. Maybe she really did just want to get some air. But I also don't know what Clara said to her that set her off, but I know how Harper had reacted. She shoved Clara off of the widow's peak. When I reached Harper, it was too late. All I could see of Clara was her blurry figure lying three stories beneath us,

"Harper, what did you do?!" I shouted at her. She looked so innocent and frightened.

She didn't respond; she just held herself while I ran all the way back down to where Clara had landed. I yelled to a maid on my way down that she needed to call for help; luckily Clara was still breathing. There were slashes and blooming purple bruises flowering all over her pale skin. She was unconscious and lying in the rose bushes.

Harper has become someone I don't know in these past few months. I don't what happened to her or where she had run off to, but she had changed. A thirteen year old girl, and she pushed her own cousin off of the roof of a three story building. Maybe she'll be better off at St Dymphna's. I hate myself for thinking it.

But she's gone now. Judging by the time, she's already been admitted. I wonder if Grandpa Jackson told her that it really isn't a school. I wonder if I'll ever get to see her again.


	11. Chapter 11

December 31st, 1984

Tomorrow will be a new year. I got to visit Harper yesterday; Aunt Virginia took Wade and me up to the hospital to see her and see how she's doing. Her progress was...I don't want to say disappointing, but what else is there to say? That place isn't helping her, it's just keeping her away from the outside world. Like she's some insane criminal that needs to be locked up for the sake of others' safety.

I'm counting down the minutes until 1985 while the partygoers dance downstairs. There's always a party here, isn't there? Like life's just a fancy event to attend, taking nothing seriously and ignoring all responsibilities. But I can't do that - Thornton Industries Group is constantly on my mind, so is Harper.

Another minute goes by. This year is slowly chipping away; I want to grab onto it and never let it go. A year ago today, I was dancing with my friends in the ballroom downstairs. At midnight I let a boy from our high school kiss me. It was my first kiss. I remember my friends swarming me right after, giggling and joking. I was so joyous and carefree back then. They left when the party was over at around two, then Clara, Wade, and I snuck out to the cemetery with a bottle of expensive cognac. We were barely fifteen, hiding behind the mausoleum, drinking because it made us feel immortal and invincible.

After Wade had returned to the guest house for the night - he and his mother always stayed with us over winter break - and Clara had collapsed in her bed, I'd slipped into Harper's room. She was awake, of course, slouched over some book by a lamp. I'd snuggled up next to her, wished her a happy new year, then had fallen asleep. It was one of the best nights of my life.

This new year will be empty. No Mother or Father, no friends, no Harper. Clara has become increasingly distant - her new boyfriend, Austin, is whom she excuses all of her time to. But I know she's upset with me for favoring Harper still, for endlessly hoping she'll return to us here at the Hall. Even though she's hurt Clara several times, she's still my sister. I'll never forget that.

The people below chant as one, counting down the final seconds of this year. I close my eyes and try to mute their voices, try to will this year to begin anew. Another shot at 1984. But when I open my eyes, see the confetti flying into the sky, hear the happy screams downstairs, I know my wish did not come true.

January 1st, 1985

I go back inside the Hall from the balcony where I wasted a full hour of the new year watching happy people light fireworks and sing drunk ballads. The balcony doors slam from my force as I stalk into the mansion. I can't take it anymore, being around all these people who have no problem lying to everyone, including themselves, about the truth.

There are tears falling from my eyes: one for my Mother, who would comfort me if she was here; one for my Father, who would offer advice no matter what the situation; one for Harper, who made nights like these worth it; one for the unfortunate past year we've all had; and one more for me, Charlotte Ann Thornton, the girl who died the day she was born. Doomed to a life she has no control over, losing family and friends every day. I wipe these tears from my eyes and I storm silently through the upstairs hallways, run up to the widow's peak, and brace myself against the partial railing.

The cool wind bites at my exposed skin. It's not cold, but not warm. It's like there's no weather at all this time of year - it, like me, is void. I close my eyes and shut out the sparking and popping sounds of celebration, I let the darkness consume me. I want to get closer to it, to feel in touch with something so similar to what I'm feeling in my heart. Still with my eyes shut, I swing my legs up onto the edge of the railing. My fingers are still clinging to the edge, so I'm in sort of a squatting position. I adjust, moving slowly with my arms spread out for balance, and teeter on top of the metal rod. I hold my arms out parallel to the rod and I feel like a bird, like if I step off I'll just fly away and never have to come back here again.

I open my eyes slowly and look off of the edge of the widow's peak. I know if I fall I'll be fine, because Clara landed in the rose bushes and she's fine. But what if I jumped? What if I aimed for the concrete pathway, where I know nothing could break my fall? Another gust of wind rushes by, flapping the skirt of my dress around me, as if it's telling me to do it. To go ahead and jump. I close my eyes again, listening to the beckoning call of the endless possibilities that stretch out before me.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A guy's voice, calm and clear, speaking from behind me. My eyes snap open and I suddenly realize where I am and how high up I am and how much I don't want to die. This abrupt comprehension is almost enough to make me fall off the roof. I sway and scream a little.

"Hey! Charlotte!" The guy says again, closer to me this time. I don't dare to look back to see who it is; I'm focused purely on my balance. "Shit, Charlotte, what are you doing up here? Actually, don't answer that. I'm right behind you, okay? You can fall backwards and I'll catch you, alright?"

He asks so many questions my mind is getting dizzy, like last year at around this time while I was drunk and thought I saw ghosts in the cemetery. But I think I get the gist of what he's saying, so I listen, because falling onto the widow's peak is better than falling onto the ground three stories below me. "Okay…" I respond tentatively, still unsure of everything, and I let all my weight fall behind me. I collapse into a pair of outstretched arms; my heart is beating so goddamn fast.

The boy helps me stand steady, asking "Are you alright?" about a dozen times. When I'm sure I can think straight, I turn to him and answer, "Yes, yes I'm fine." He's about my age, it seems, with dark hair and light eyes. He's taller than me by a good five inches or so but his suit fits oddly on him. He must be here for the party, I quickly assume, but there's something about him that's very familiar. Also handsome, if I must admit.

I squint my eyes at him, piecing together who he is. "Henry?"

He offers a shy smile and nods a little. "I didn't think you'd recognize me. We've hardly ever spoken…"

Henry is the son of the ferryman; he's been there almost every day his father takes us to the mainland for school. Henry's a year older than me, so he's right - we haven't talked much. I was always slightly intimidated by him because he was older, but now I feel like I could hug him I'm so grateful.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Oh, you know, getting away from the crowds of drunken Thorntons - er, no offense. Also saving damsels in distress, apparently," he adds with a more confident grin than before.

"I am no damsel! I would've been just fine without you," I counter.

He just chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would've. See you around, Charlotte."

And just like that, my midnight savior is gone as mysteriously as he appeared.


End file.
